Portugal pt1 – The journey down

The journey started in the very early hours of Sunday the 2nd, 4am wake up time, in cold and dark Norwich. I jumped out of bed and without even making a cup of tea, dressed and proceeded to pack the car of what was left of my belongings. Wrapped up in several layers and a heavy coat I crammed the car the best I could and just managed to get everything in. Hoorah!

Thankfully, the recent snow and ice had thawed away to leave a fairly dry road surface, and we raced on out of Norwich along the A11 towards London in the dark. Hardly a soul on the roads, the journey down the the M25 was quick and without hitch. Signs of congestion at junction 24 and 25 appeared and I gambled on heading clockwise and over the Dartford bridge. Throwing a couple of nuggets into the hod, the barrier raised and we continued around to Junction 10 only to stop once at a almost deserted service station for a large tea and a stretch of legs.

The sun eventually peaked through the clouds to our left as we headed south along the A3 towards Portsmouth. An auspicious start to our long journey as we made good time and felt anticipation of arriving at the port.

We arrived in Portsmouth harbor at around 9am, to find rows of cars and mobile homes already queued up in ceremonial accord. Passing through passport control, we placed a tag on the rear view mirror and were given our cabin keys, and made our way to the end of line. Excited and relieved to have made it down so easily, we jumped out and headed to a rather ramshackle set of buildings for another set of refreshments and a break from the confines of the car. No sooner sat down, only to hear an announcement to return to our vehicles as embarkation was imminent. Here we go!!

well almost. We filed row at a time through to another large waiting area and ceremoniously queued up again just behind the ferry and watched a car after car, caravan, mobile home and vans were loaded up. Our turn came after around an hours wait and we were guided towards the front of the boat and shuffled the car between two huge pillars and wedged between other vehicles, with a foot or so either side.

Grabbing our day bags we headed out of the ‘garage’ and up three flights of stairs to find our cabin 6246. A poky little cabin with a thin single bed against the wall and en-suite. Dismayed at the thought of having to sleep top-to-tail we almost missed noticing a drop down bunk which lowered from the ceiling. Phew!

Up to deck 7 and a comfortable set of seats right at the front of the boat made us welcome and we slumped, exhausted and excited.

24 hours later and after a pretty uncomfortable nights sleep, we arrived in Santander.

Santander Harbour

The ferry passed so close to a sand bank on the way into the harbour, it was hardly believable that it wouldn’t become grounded, deftly steering the front of the ship into position we all eagerly grabbed bags and stood waiting to gain entry into the garage and return to our vehicles. Only minutes passed and then it was our turn to disembark, no ramp, just straight off and into another queue, but this time for Spanish passport control. A quick glance at our documents and ourselves and we were free to go!

Drive on the right, drive on the right… we headed out of Santander and into the hills. It was warm, sunny and slightly overcast as we pushed onwards, through tunnels and winding mountain roads. Through Torrelavega, and onto Palencia, Valladolid and Salamanca unabated along clean and clear roads. The hills of northern Spain were replaced with land which reminded us of home, flat and agricultural. We made excellent time, stopping only twice for petrol, the second time, as dusk closed in, near Cáceres.

So, it happened that we entered Portugal at Badajoz without even a welcome! The only give-away being a difference in the road signs. Elated and somewhat disappointed not to receive a huge applause we proceeded onwards through a toll gate heading to Lisbon E90 in the dark. The roads were fantastic, no pot holes and very little traffic at 7.30 in the evening, I was fixed to the road ahead. One more pit stop for petrol just before we turned south down the A2, another smooth sleek road, being overtaken by cars travelling well over 100 mph. My steady 120 kph (75 mph) seemed a snails pace.

At last, signs for Faro, Lagos and names I remember from my trip over in October, how exciting! We turned right onto the A22 after paying just over €27 in tolls, we counted down the junction numbers to 4 where I turned off and relied on memory for the very last part of the journey. No problem, it was as if it were yesterday; even though in the pitch black, we turned up the road from the N125 heading to Monte Judeu, passed the recycling lay-by under the A22 and viaduct through the one car width bridge and winding our way into the foothills. I got so excited at being on the final 100 yards I floored the car and was promptly reprimanded by Kelly, ironic at doing 10 hours previously without even a murmur!

Jumping out of the car at just past 10pm on the 4th January, Kelly opened the gates to let me through to park up on the gravel drive in front of the villa. Muito Bem!

How relieved was I! – The car was a dream, and my co-pilot did fantastic (thanks TomTom ;-) )

We unpacked the car in a daze, headed towards the kettle and pretty much to bed straight afterwards. We made it, totally shattered from 2 days travelling and my Mum really wouldn’t be happy I did the whole drive without swapping with Kelly, but I was determined and yes, ever-so slightly stubborn. 650 miles – easy!

Tags: portugal

This entry was posted on Friday, January 7th, 2011 at 12:47 pm and is filed under general, Portugal Journal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.